


Strange Direction: The Love Story of Absolutely No One, Everyone Just Is, Basically

by lowi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, all right i am blabbering, also it's kind of meta huh, another stupid thing by me, because niall's favourite band, fun fact: first i had this set in canada, now it's not haha, shush me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowi/pseuds/lowi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At least it doesn’t seem to be a love story, not when Louis throws pappardelle packages straight at Zayn’s face.</p><p>Also featuring Niall “my boner is now ruined” Horan, Liam “I didn’t get a brick in my head” Payne and Harry “the cockpass” Styles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Direction: The Love Story of Absolutely No One, Everyone Just Is, Basically

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [belalugosisalive](http://belalugosisalive.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading. ~~seriously without you this would have sucked~~
> 
> Work can also be found at my [tumblr](http://onedinosaurs.tumblr.com/post/47176832338/strange-direction-the-love-story-of-absolutely-no-one).
> 
> Disclaimer: Fiction. Don't own.

”So, I have conducted a plan,” Louis said. It didn’t quite get the reaction he had hoped for, since Liam simply shoved more corn flakes into his mouth and kept staring at the back of the milk carton as though it contained the secret of life. Niall didn’t even flinch; he just kept frowning at the fridge, scratching his hair.

Sure, Louis knew neither of them were morning people, but still. He had expected at least _something_ more.

“Guys. I said I’ve got a plan.” He picked up the newspaper that lay on the table and waved it in front of Liam’s face.

“Huh?” Liam asked, giving Louis a look as though he had never seen him before. “For what?”

Niall sat down by the table with a thump, slamming down an orange onto the table. It rolled off the moment he let it go. “Oh, fuck,” he murmured, diving down to pick it up.

“How to get together with yoghurt-boy,” Louis explained. He tried his best to be patient, and not to speak too quickly because even though he felt slightly like jumping up and down since the plan was _awesome_ , he knew Liam and Niall wouldn’t get it if he even was close to blabber.

Niall put a slice of his orange into his mouth, saying nothing but gazing blankly at Louis. Liam frowned.

“Yoghurt-boy?” Louis tried. “Miles long eyelashes and tattoos I want to lick, always paying with his credit card and never wanting the receipt? Brings his own bag?”

They still said nothing.

“Come on, I talk about him alw –“

“Oh!” Liam said abruptly, shining up. As much as shining up was possible for him when it was 5.30 in the morning and Louis knew for sure Liam hadn’t slept much since Niall had slept (yeah, that’s what Louis told himself; he didn’t like thinking of his best friends doing anything not completely innocent with _each other_ ) in his room. “A plan?” he continued.

“Yes!” Louis tapped his fingers against Liam’s arm that rested next to him on the table. “See, he’s coming over to pay, and we both will smile that way we usually smile to each other; that way it _means_ something.”

“We _know_ you’ve been analysing the security videos, Lou. No need to go through that again.” Even though Niall said it rather huffily, there was a slight hint of a smile in his eyes. Louis was impressed. Niall usually didn’t function before three o’clock in the day – but then, if he’d been in a particularly bad morning mood, he’d go around giving both Liam and Louis lots of spontaneous, nuzzling hugs to make up for it.

“All right, all right.” When Louis had told them of how he had spent the latest couples of weeks’ lunch breaks, (that is, munching on microwaved pizza slices in front of the videos covering those times he had been on the check out and yoghurt-boy had been shopping) Niall had said he was very good at being a stalker, and that he should be teaching in it to prospective assassins. Louis had countered with the way Niall was so much of a fan of that new boy band that he’d once slept in a bush outside a hotel nearby where they were staying in, hoping one of them would appear on the balcony. Niall had said it was a completely different thing, and then he had thrown himself on Louis and they had wrestled for a while, until they had just lain on the floor in Niall’s room in a pile. When Liam had come home they had forced him to cook, saying they were exhausted and not in shape to do any kind of physical work.

“So, get to the point.” Niall was only in boxers, except for his slipper-clad feet which he now swung up on the table.

“Yeah, well, then, as I ask him if he would like his receipt, he’s as always gonna say ‘no thanks.’ He’s awfully polite, have I said that?” Before Louis had time to explain how yoghurt-boy always took his time to give Louis smiles and thank him expressively, Liam and Niall had groaned in unison. “Okay, I suppose I have. Anyway, _then_ I say,” Louis paused slightly to take in the view of Niall’s and Liam’s anticipating faces. They weren’t as anticipating as he had expected, he realised with a frown. “…’If I write my number on it, then would you like it?’”

Liam blinked. Niall did, too.

“What?” Louis asked, rising to stand and put his bowl in the sink. “It’s a great idea.”

“What if he says something like…’no’?” Liam wondered quietly, also standing up as he began to clear the table by putting away the muesli container and the milk package.

“He’s so not going to say that, though,” Louis said, feeling so confident of this that he grinned widely at Niall. “Today’s the day,” he said to the plates in the sink.

Liam bumped his hip into his and smiled slowly. “Well, it’s Friday also, so I mean, dinner and all such things would work.”

Now Niall stood up. “Hey, no, you’re not ditching us tonight, Louis! We had decided we were going to go out drinking.” He stomped over to them and swung an arm around Liam’s shoulders, planting a kiss on his neck. “Not that I’d be all alone or anything, but you haven’t had a weekend off in _ages_. So this was gonna be _our_ weekend.”

“No, no,” Louis protested. “I promise tonight’s just us three.”

—

In the end, it wasn’t just them three. It felt a bit absurd actually, but yoghurt-boy sat three chairs away from him, and he was just in a conversation with Niall about the cons and pros of Guinness.

When Louis had spotted yoghurt-boy in the washing detergent aisle, he had dropped the toilet paper he had been trying to staple and hurried down to the checkout line. He had quickly convinced Mary that she should take a break (“I owe it to you since last Sunday, remember? Seriously, you _don’t_ remember? It was that time cat-lady number 4 yelled at me for the oranges? Yeah, I remember I cried; we don’t need to talk about it again, just give me your chair, okay?”) and sat down in front of the automatic band. He had shuffled around to get a pen up from his pocket, panicked for a few moments as he couldn’t find one (it would have ruined _everything_ , seriously), but then pulled one up with a successful grin just as yoghurt-boy had started to empty his basket.

“Hello!” Louis had said, and then he had fumbled around with yoghurt-boy’s juice bottle searching for the bar code for much longer than it averagely took him.

“Hi,” yoghurt-boy had greeted him, and Louis had begun to worry if he really would be able to fulfil his plan. But then he had tried to imagine how much Niall would have laughed if he had come back home and said he had chickened out, so when yoghurt-boy finally was done paying, Louis had – which was kind of a fail if he was being honest, but hell, it _had_ worked – said “All right, I’ll write my number down on your receipt and if you don’t take it I suppose I’ll just drown myself tonight in the Thames.”

It really hadn’t had that flirty edge to it as he had wanted, but yoghurt-boy’s mouth had slowly turned into a grin, and he had said “whoa there, I’ll better take it then.” And Louis had begun to say “no pressure” but realised he already kind of had pressured yoghurt-boy by a great deal, so he had just given him the receipt and grimaced-grinned.

And when he had come home and made himself a large cup of coffee, his mobile phone had vibrated in his pocket and there had been a text saying _Hi, dunno if I need to introduce myself since you seemed pretty eager to give me your number… or maybe you do this to everyone. Hmm. This is Zayn, the guy from the grocery store – the one saving your life yeah? :)_

Louis had barged into the bathroom, for Niall and locking doors didn’t coexist, not since the blond locked himself into the bathroom months and months ago and couldn’t get out for three hours – he said he had been traumatised and that they’d have to deal with him removing the lock. (They had protested, both Louis and Liam, but Niall had seemed pretty upset as he unscrewed it with shaky hands, so they had just gone with it in the end.)

“Look!” Louis had shouted, waving the phone in front of Niall, who had currently been perched on the toilet with a large book in his lap. As implied, they had quickly got over the awkwardness of not being able to use the loo in privacy.

“What? Oh, for the love of God, hold it still. I can’t see anything when you’re pushing it all up in my face.”

“Look!” Louis had repeated. “You said the plan wouldn’t work – who’s laughing now?” He had added a, unfortunately, rather manic laughter, because no one had been, in fact, laughing, and it _was_ supposed to be him cackling evilly.

Niall had grinned crookedly. “I’m impressed. So, what’s you gonna answer?”

Louis had blinked, and leaned towards the bathroom cabinet. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, great.” Niall had rolled his eyes. “Really, mate, you should be lucky to have me as your friend.”

And then Niall had mumbled something about making a PowerPoint presentation about texting since Louis definitely _sucked_ at it, after grabbing Louis’ phone and sending away a text to yoghurt-boy, or, well, _Zayn_. “Niall, Zayn is a great name,” Louis had said, and when Niall had sighed and tossed the phone back, he had scrolled through his sent messages and found the one just sent to Zayn. _ZAYN ! I literally owe you my life as you sort of put it ! but I don’t want to give you my life since you so kindly saved it so how about beers tonite with me and my friends ? /Louis x_

Louis had thought for a little while that maybe _Niall_ was the one who needed the PowerPoint presentation to get better at texting, but just then his phone had vibrated again and there had been a text from Zayn saying _that sounds great, where and when and can I bring a friend too? xo_ so the frown on his face had quickly disappeared and Niall had done a victory dance around him, while pulling up his zipper.

And, Louis mused as he took another sip on his beer, Niall hadn’t even been mad it wasn’t just them three. Not that he had thought Niall _would_ be, but still.

Liam had just pulled off his bright orange reflective jacket in the hallway when he got home, smiling faintly, as Louis had shouted to him “The plan worked! He’s coming with us tonight! Go take a shower immediately, Payne, you smell horrible.”

“So,” the boy, who now smelled much less like cement dust and sat next to Louis, began. “Is he as good as you imagined?”

Louis bit his lips not to let them spread too widely. “Yeah,” he said. “Definitely.” Liam waggled his eyebrows, and lifted his glass to clink it against Louis’.

Suddenly Niall skipped over to them, swinging his hands around Liam and pulling the taller guy down so their lips met. Zayn stood just behind him, and Louis looked over Niall’s shaggy hair and engaged Zayn’s eyes with his own. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Zayn’s mouth curled upwards, as he followed Niall’s hand travelling down Liam’s side, and Liam grabbing it and pulling it away from his crotch. “Niall ran out of beer, so he said he was going to order another one. I suppose this here was just another natural stop.”

Louis nodded dazedly, his gaze caught at Zayn’s rather low-necked shirt – when Zayn arrived he had been wearing both a scarf and a woollen sweater, and all those times in the shop he’d also been rather bundled up.

Zayn tapped a finger against Louis’ thigh. “Very flattering, mate.”

Louis coughed, quickly looking away from Zayn. “Just not really the normal kind of look you see in this pub. Where do you go usually; where trashy is the new proper? I really want to visit there, sometime.”

Zayn snorted. “I don’t go to trashy places.”

“Oh, really?” Zayn’s eyes were all scrunched up and the eyelashes surrounding them were incredibly black. Not that Louis was staring, nope. Not there, and not at the tattoos visible just above his collar, again. “Could never guess; you look exactly like you’re one of those blokes who shags your date in the backseat of your rusty, creaky car, and then after pushing the door open, hollers ‘Eh, this was brill, babes! Do it again next Sunday?’”

Zayn narrowed his eyes towards Louis, and then he blinked once. “All right, if you’re not into that, it will make a few changes to my plans, but I sure can manage something differently.”

Louis began patting his pockets. “Great, I have my list somewhere here. You know, champagne, rose petals, a live orchestra…”

They both burst out laughing the exact same moment, and then Zayn looked around himself for a split second. “What?” Louis asked.

“Have you seen Harry in a while?” Zayn asked, fishing up his phone from his jeans’ pocket.

“Er, no, actually not.” Louis hadn’t in fact seen the curly-haired friend of Zayn’s since maybe half an hour ago, when he had babbled with Liam about some misunderstood superhero. (Louis had wondered if he was one of those who was guilty to the misunderstanding, because he sure as hell didn’t understand a word of what they were saying. Though he had wondered if it couldn’t also depend on the fact that Harry had been downing vodka shots in a speed Louis had never witnessed before, so his speech had been rather slurred. The event of not understanding Liam though…well, Liam tended to be rather excited about things like this, and most often Louis really couldn’t follow him when that enthusiasm occurred.)

“He was going to the gents a while ago,” Liam piped up. Niall was slobbering at his neck, so Louis was rather surprised he’d heard their conversation. Like, Liam’s eyes were half-shut, and his hands gripped tightly at the sides of Niall – tank top strangely twisted between his fingers – but his voice was still loud and steady. Louis was impressed.

“Hmm,” Zayn said. “Help me find him?” he continued, turning to Louis.

“Absolutely.” The two of them steered through the rather empty pub (even though it was a Friday night, the place never was crowded – but it was cheap. Real cheap) towards the crooked sign saying “LOOOOOOOOO.” Once it had said only “LOO” but then someone had thought it was funny to add an “O” and, according to the pub keeper, people had kept adding to it. Now the last few “OOO”s were on the bricked wall instead of on the actual sign. Louis did think it was kind of cool and he very much wished for a chance to add one there himself. Sometimes. Like, when he was drunk, and he and Niall made plans on how to survive a zombie apocalypse. (They had long since decided they’d need to lock Liam in somewhere so the guy would survive even a day. He simply hadn’t it in him.)

When they entered the bathroom, though, Louis quickly forgot about his ponderings. On the floor sat Harry, head resting towards the sinks, eyes closed, and his phone in a tight grip against his heart. Except for him, the lavatory was completely empty.

“Haz, what’s wrong?” Zayn said, crouching down quickly. Louis felt kind of intruding, but as Zayn put a hand around Harry’s side, he motioned for Louis to take his other side. They lifted him up, and Harry’s head rolled over, so that it rested against Louis’ neck.

“Zayn,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, honey, I’m here,” Zayn said softly. “C’mon, what’s the matter?”

Harry sniffed. For a second or two Louis really worried that Harry would get snot all over Louis’ shirt, but then he decided that to be an incredibly selfish thought which he should not be having. “He’s…” he began. “Look, he’s tweeted… Zayn, he said… I hate him, I really do.”

“All right, let’s get a cab home, babe,” Zayn said, as they walked out from the restroom. “Shh,” he continued as Harry began wailing something about “…not wanting to ruin your night… it’s all _his_ fault…”

They finally managed to get out from the pub, with the help from a tall man who held the doors open and gave them a concerned look. They stopped abruptly on the pavement. “Oh, I’ll go get your coats,” Louis said, realising it was freezing and remembering that moment Zayn had taken his fluffy, huge jacket off – it had gone into Louis’ top ten moments directly. Anyway, what he meant was that both Zayn and Harry had had jackets with them and they would be in need of them.

Back out at the street a few minutes later, a taxi just braked in front of the couple, and Louis hurried to give them their coats. “Really sorry about this,” Zayn said as he had ushered Harry into the backseat.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Louis said. “I mean, he’s screwed – it’s your duty, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I like to think you’d been very disappointed in me if I just had left him to drown in his own puke in that bathroom. Even though I kind of contemplated it.” Zayn’s eyes had a strange glitter in them.

“I’d been very disappointed,” Louis confirmed, but he couldn’t help pondering over how Zayn had implied this night could have ended, if things had been different. “I would have felt deceived and tricked and lost my faith in mankind. It would have become a tragedy.”

Zayn’s mouth twisted in the corners. Then suddenly there was a loud sob from the curly-haired heap of a boy Zayn just had shoved into the car, and Zayn quickly dived in after him as the driver started to throw very cautious glances over his shoulder.

Louis took a step forward, and then Zayn rolled down his window, just as the driver began to speed up. “I’ll ring you, tomorrow, I promise.”

Louis nodded, and then he heard Zayn saying something like “Harry, you’re pathetic,” as the car drove off.

Louis walked back into the pub with a very nice feeling in his stomach.

(Which disappeared as soon as Liam scolded him for a good fifteen minutes for not caring more about Harry, as Louis had retold the entire episode to him and Niall. It made even Niall complain, telling Liam he “should have been a fucking mum, Li, you have the exact tone; seriously, you just ruined my boner completely.”)

—

“So what was the deal with Harry last night?” Louis asked, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, as his hands were busy cutting off the crusts on his pizza. “He any better today?”

“Well, his hangover was kind of horrible,” Zayn responded. “Like, ‘Zayn, please, kill me with a chainsaw. No! A muted chainsaw, because a chainsaw would be too noisy!’ And then he put his pillow over his head – I think he realised he was too noisy himself.”

“That kind of hangover. Poor lad.”

“I know. And well, then he remembered why he’d been so upset last night, and started crying again. I almost wanted to ditch him and instead pay you a breakfast visit.”

“Whoa, I don’t know what to say. Are you a terrible friend or just very much into me?”

“Well, I’m currently having a sleepy Hazza’s head in my lap?”

Louis quickly tried to swallow down the large piece of the pizza he just had shoved into his mouth, so he could answer, “All right then, I guess it’s neither. Though having a head in your lap could be misinterpreted.”

“That’s pervy of you,” Zayn said, his voice very clear over the line. Louis wondered if he should stop eating and sound similarly clear. But he had a headache and even though the pizza was from last night (from five in the morning when they just got home – Niall had been _super_ hungry and the things in their fridge just wouldn’t _do_ ), it tasted delicious.

“Hello, if someone’s a perv here it’s you, man. The three cartons of yoghurt you always buy? What are you even using them for?” Louis wiped a few crumbs off the table and down onto the floor. Good thing Liam wouldn’t be home in…well any moment now. But he wasn’t there _now_.

There was some kind of shuffle from Zayn’s side of the line. “Well, but who remembers what one of his customers buys and isn’t an actual creep?”

Louis tried his very best not to laugh, but Zayn just sounded so… He couldn’t even put the finger on what it was, but it sure made Louis feel like the pizza was bouncing around in his stomach. In a good way. “All right. Let’s change subject – I don’t want my creepiness revealed.”

“Fine,” Zayn said.

 “Can I ask why Harry was so upset?” Louis rose from his chair and walked over to the sink, where he put his plates. Someone would need to wash those dishes soon. He would remind Liam when the guy got back from work, Louis decided with a nod to the plates, and with his best don’t-worry-you’ll-soon-be-sparkling-clean-my-dears look.

Zayn didn’t respond.

Louis paused, his hand hovering over the handle to the fridge. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy–“

“No, it’s fine. It’s just…it’s so odd all of it. Like, he’s seeing this guy, and they seem to be going steady. But then, without warning, one of them goes out with someone else. It’s like they don’t know they’re in a relationship until they’re cheated on, and yet they keep letting each other down.”

Louis opened the fridge, trying to spot the bottle of milk he _knew_ was in there somewhere. “Hmm.”

“It’s really strange. As though they don’t know the other one is just as into him as he himself is, you know? Like, they have this notion that they’re the one being a clingy, love-struck boy, and the other one is not, so he won’t be hurt if they ever go out with someone else.”

“How many times has it happened?” Louis asked and pulled out a half-empty tube of mayonnaise. If Niall had drunk his milk, he’d cut him.

“Well, I know for sure Harry’s been miserable about it at least four times. And Nick, well, we’re not that close, but I know for sure it’s been at least twice – but it can very well have been more often than that.” Zayn stopped abruptly.

“What? Harry woke?”

“No, he’s asleep.” It sounded as though Zayn patted Harry’s head, which, in sheer honesty felt like a strange way of reassuring that the subject of the question wouldn’t wake up, but, well, maybe Zayn put the boy out by actually _putting him out_. “I just don’t want to bore you.”

“No, you’re absolutely not being boring! Really.” Louis coughed. It hurt a bit in his throat. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t quite come up with a way to help you – even though it almost feels as though I should be an expert in this field.”

“How so?”

“Well, with two friends who don’t know they should be dating, I’d say I’m living amidst the very same thing.” Finally Louis spotted the milk bottle. No wonder he hadn’t found it, it had been hiding behind Liam’s shampoo collection.

 “Really? Liam and Niall aren’t a couple?”

“Nope,” Louis responded. “They have some _very_ odd friends-with-benefits thing going on.” He rolled his eyes to himself and kicked the fridge door shut with his foot. “It’s rather sick, in my opinion. They keep saying they aren’t ‘after a boyfriend,’ but hell if they should be – I mean, after each other – it’d be much simpler.”

“We have strange friends,” Zayn stated. “How about you – are you in a malfunctioning relationship, or…?”

Louis paused in his trudge towards the table. Oh no. Either Zayn thought of him as a possible cheater, or merely as a friend. Hadn’t he made his intentions awfully clear? “No!” he said, and maybe a bit too loud, because it sounded as though Zayn hit the phone against his ear. For a split second Louis felt proud he had managed to cause a physical reaction in Zayn. And on that subject, how he wished for more chances to cause such…

Like, Zayn shuddering or moaning or gasping just because of him…

However, if Zayn viewed him as a buddy, that would never happen. He shook his head. Focus, Louis.

“Just wanted to be sure,” Zayn said after a moment. Louis let out a breath. “I mean, you could have picked something up from your friends, couldn’t you?”

“Are we referring to this as some kind of disease now? Because in that case I’m healthier than a…pomegranate smoothie.”

“For a short while I thought you’d start talking about STDs there, but never mind.”

“I don’t bring those up until third date, darling. I do have some class.” In response, Zayn chuckled, but suddenly the front door rattled, and Liam strode in, straight to the kitchen, with a look on his face Louis really didn’t like.

“Louis?” Zayn asked.

“Sorry, I have to go. Liam just got home, and he’s sporting his passively aggressive face, which is kind of bad because he only wears that, like, once a year. And now he’s glaring at me even though I haven’t done anything. Also, Niall’s fast asleep, so I’m the only one who can turn Liam un-sulky.”

“Oh,” Zayn said. “All right.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow perhaps?” Louis said, and when Zayn hummed his agreement, Louis hung up and turned to Liam, who had now turned to eye-murder the water tap. “Li, what’s up? You got a brick in your head and Andy laughed at you?” He rose from the chair and leaned against the counter, so that he stood next to Liam.

Liam had a finger under the stream of water, as though waiting for it to turn colder, and his lower lip was prominently shot out. “No,” he said.

Louis handed him a glass as Liam didn’t seem to remember why he had gone to the sink in the first place. “So what happened? Wait, let me have another guess. You walked under a ladder, to prove that being superstitious is silly, but _then_ you got a brick in your head?”

“I didn’t get a brick in my head, Louis,” Liam said, walking away from the counter and sitting down on a chair. He still wore his working trousers, and there was a kind of dusty cloud in the air following him.

Louis sighed. “I can’t believe it. You’ve been working as a construction worker for so long and never got a brick in your head. I’m so disappointed in you.”

“Ha. Ha.” Liam crossed his arms, and gave his water glass a look that suggested he would slaughter it if it tried something. Then he took a sip of it.

Louis padded over to him and sat down promptly in his lap.

“Get off me, I’m sweaty and dirty.”

Louis pushed his nose into the crook of Liam’s neck. “Which is superhot, Payne. Wish you had been a bit bloody, too. I would have shagged you so hard you would have died.”

“Well, as I didn’t get a brick in my head, I’m afraid I’m not bloody.”

Louis looked up at Liam, poking his cheek with his nose until Liam let out a thin smile. “See, it would do everyone a favour if you got a brick in your head.”

Finally Liam smiled completely, and pushed Louis off him.

“So that’s what I get for being a nice, cuddly friend,” Louis said, and sat down on the chair next to Liam instead. “Though, seriously, man, what got your knickers in a twist?”

Liam sighed. “The combination of not having slept more than half an hour and dropping an entire truckload of planks is not one I recommend. You know my boss is rabid, yeah? Well, you haven’t seen him rabid if you didn’t see him today.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. He was awfully happy Liam’s job wasn’t his. The only bright side about it (honestly, the bad sides were _numerous_ : always being outside – in rain, snow, and desert-like weather; super-early mornings; and so, _so_ much physical work – however, according to Niall that was also a bright side, and if Louis was being completely honest, it was actually a semi-bright side, because when it came to a shirtless Liam he actually couldn’t stop himself from staring) was that he never worked in the weekends. Louis didn’t very often either, admittedly, as he always switched those passes with someone as soon as he could, but well, if he had to pick _one_ bright side about Liam’s job that was it.

“And it wasn’t even my fault,” Liam finished, rising from his chair. “Now I’ll wake Niall up and force him to cheer me up,” he continued, treading towards Niall’s door as he began unhitching his belt.

“Hey, what was wrong with my cheering up of you?” Louis yelled after him, but then he heard Niall growl as Liam opened his door, so Louis didn’t object further. It _was_ annoying that Niall _never_ had to wake up before noon, _ever_ , so Louis wouldn’t complain now that Niall’s sleep for once got disturbed.

He just hoped they wouldn’t be too loud, because his headache was still there. And well, there were a few gross-related reasons, too, which he could point out.

—

Louis opened his eyes. His head pounded heavily. It was awfully bright, as though someone had taken a star down – he closed his eyes again – and put it in his room…wait, _what_? That was Niall who had been singing pop-songs before he left for work yesterday. It had nothing to do with this, or had it? Maybe Niall had taken a star down and left it in Louis’ room for storage.

His head pounded again, but now it sounded more as though his head had turned into a tree. He put a hand on it, and no, it was very much not a tree.

“Lou?” Oh. It had been a knock, not his head pounding. He heard someone shuffling into the room, and then, as the person kept talking, he comprehended that it was Liam. “I’m off to wor – are you all right?”

Louis tried to say “Liam, save me. My head isn’t making any sense,” but instead he said, “There is a thin line between all right and no right. Many people have a lot less rights than us, and we should be more grateful for our freedom.”

“Louis?” Liam asked, and then Louis felt a hand on his forehead. “God,” Liam mumbled. “Stay right there; I’ll be back in a minute.”

Louis wanted to ask Liam to bring him a glass of water, but instead, he heard himself clearing his throat and saying, “Back me up, will you?” It made no sense, again. Louis threw a hand out, and it hit the side of his drawer. He jolted a bit, pulled his hand back, rolled over on his side and tried to figure out which way was up and which was down and where he was amidst all this.

Really, what was his mind on about?

He kicked the sheets off him, but ended up having them twisted around his feet, so when he crawled out of the bed, he fell down and landed with his face straight into the trousers he had been wearing last night.

What a shame he hadn’t landed in, like, a hat, because then he had already had it on his head and saved a lot of time.

“Hey, hey, Lou.” Suddenly a couple of hands grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him up. As Louis’ feet came to be the only part of his body in touch with the floor, he figured he should try to stand on his own. Like, seriously, he actually could stand on his own – he was a grown-up. It had been _years_ since he took his first steps. But the hands didn’t let go off him, and instead he felt himself being pushed back at the bed again.

It reminded him of that time Niall had played Xbox from six in the afternoon until five in the morning and had refused to go to bed even though both Louis and Liam had pleaded and tried to lure him there with cookies and with promises of cuddles. Louis had no idea of why this reminded him of that but it did.

“Niall, promise me you won’t be a silly gamer like that again,” he said.

“What?” Niall asked, and then Liam shook his head. They looked very cute where they stood next to Louis’ bed, Niall scratching his hair and looking as though he just got home from work, and Liam’s forehead all wrinkled. They seemed to be having a conversation with each other, but Louis had a hard time following, since they babbled _really_ quickly. Probably in a secret language, too. That would be so like them.

“I want you two to have a baby named Stephen King,” Louis said, and then he blackened out.

—

Someone was poking Louis. He could tell. He slowly opened his eyes and found he was lying on his side and staring into Niall’s eyes. “Huh?” He also, as he extended an arm to poke Niall back, found out that he was terribly sweaty.

“Good you’re not dead. I was just checking. You can go back to sleep now.”

“Wha’?” Louis asked. As he tried to breathe in, it felt as though someone had put a tight iron band around his chest. It was rather confusing actually.

“I shouldn’t have woken you up,” Niall mumbled into his pillow. He wore his working shirt, Louis noticed.

“Wha’ tim’s it?” He couldn’t breathe through his nose, either. It was very odd.

“It’s four in the afternoon,” Niall said, and then he put a hand on Louis’ side before Louis had time…jumping up and run around the flat, yelling, “My boss is going to kill me! What should I do what should I do what should I do what should I do?”

On the other hand, Louis wasn’t sure he’d been able to move that much, because just the thought of it made his head spin.

“You’re having the flu; don’t worry, ringed your work and said you’re sick.” Niall’s hand rubbed Louis’ side slightly, and then it disappeared. “Would you like something? Something to drink? Soup? A fruit?”

Louis tried to say “no thanks” but it came out as a mumble.

“I can bake you a cake, if you want. Do you want that? Or maybe a tart – or I can go buy some ice cream? I always think ice cream is the best way of cooling down when you’re burning up in a fever, right?” Niall rolled around a bit on the bed until he sat up properly and peered down at Louis, who rested completely still next to him. The blond put a hand on Louis’ forehead, and then he bent down slightly and whispered to Louis, “All right, I’ll let you sleep in peace.”

Louis felt Niall’s lips touch his temple, and then the bed lifted a bit, and he heard how Niall closed the door to the room carefully.

Louis started giggling as he thought of how Niall probably would go out buy ice cream now, and then tell Liam it was for Louis and still eat all of it himself, but as his chest began to hurt, he quickly stopped.

—

Louis sat on a chair in the kitchen, with a comforter wrapped around him so that he felt like a mummy. And Liam felt like a mummy, too, but the other, less Egyptian kind, with the way he suddenly crashed in through the door with loads of grocery bags hanging from his arms. “Lou? You’re up? Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Hey, Li,” Louis croaked. “Wan’ed tea.”

Liam put all the bags on the floor with a clatter, which echoed loudly in Louis’ ears. “But you’re not drinking any tea,” he articulated slowly, as though he was informing Louis that he unfortunately was mentally ill and that all his friends were imaginary ones.

“’know. Bu’ cou’nt reach a cup,” Louis said through his chattering teeth. Sure, Niall had said when he left a few hours ago that Louis’ fever had gone down, and Louis indeed felt much less cloudy in his brain – but now he couldn’t help but miss the heat he had been in – he felt as though he had turned into an actual icicle.

Liam gave him a long look, his lips pressed together, and then he flicked the water boiler on. “You are kind of adorably pathetic when you’re sick, did you know that?”

“’m not,” Louis protested. Though quite weakly, so he feared he only established Liam’s point further.

“You’re _very_ pathetic, dear,” Liam said and patted Louis’ head as he walked past him to begin unpacking the grocery bags.

“No,” Louis said, and then he rested his head against the table and fell asleep.

—

Louis was kind of pissed off, so he really thought he shouldn’t be blamed for that the butterscotch schnapps bottle he just bought from the tiny tobacco shop already was half empty. He put his hands protectively around it as Liam gave him _another_ look from where he was sitting on the ground with his arms around his drawn-up knees.

Louis took another swig, and scowled down at the flask in his hands. Actually, Fitz, his ancient co-worker in the grocery store, often said that nothing beat the flu as hard liquor beverages. It killed the virus or something like that. So really, even though Louis had got rid of the flu – or most of it – a couple of days ago, this should be considered as some kind of precaution he was taking to prevent it from returning.

Louis sighed and held the bottle’s neck between his teeth and tried to ignore how Zayn kept ignoring him.

When they had arrived, Zayn had just said “You never phoned me,” and Louis had tried to explain that he had been sick, like fever-hallucinating-about-flying-clowns sick, but Zayn hadn’t even listened; he had just pulled up his hoodie over his head and lit a cigarette. And sure, Louis hadn’t prodded or anything, but really – Zayn should just have got it, honestly. He sipped on his butterscotch schnapps again, and watched Zayn who kept whispering something in Harry’s ear, so that the curly-haired boy cast a wide-eyed glance at the guy next to Liam, who apparently was The Nick.

Seriously, that _was_ how Zayn had presented him. The Nick. And Zayn hadn’t seemed too happy that The Nick was there, but on the other hand, Zayn hadn’t seemed to be too happy overall, as though he had been dipped in a Make-Me-Mope potion before he arrived.

And that moping still was the reason why Louis was pissed off. He grabbed the collar on Niall’s shirt, not really caring that he was interrupting Niall’s chameleon-impression – besides, it was a crappy impression because it wasn’t until Niall yelled “Fucker! I was being a chameleon; you can’t just walk in on a show like that! Where’s your bloody manners?” that he understood that that was why Niall had been crawling around on his knees.

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Louis said, not letting go off Niall’s collar even though he was done hauling him up and away from where the others were under a lamppost. Neither of his bottle of schnapps. It was his only friend in the hardship his life had become.

“Because it’s fuuuuun,” Niall said, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s a midnight picnic except that it’s more like a midnight-getting-shitfaced-mission.”

Louis hummed because that made sense. Sort of. At least it explained why they were in a park in the middle of the night. “But why did _Zayn_ and _Harry_ and _Nick_ have to come?” He shot out his lower lip, while Niall, who seemed to be on some kind of energy high, ran around him in a circle with flailing hands.

“Because,” Niall said, puffing a bit, “they’re great!”

“Well.” Louis had to spin around to make sure he could keep eye contact with Niall, which made his head swirl in an awful speed. “Zayn’s not. He’s stupid.”

Niall suddenly grinned hugely, and Louis grabbed his arms to make him stop moving so goddamn much. First of all, yes, it made him dizzy and unable to think clearly. Secondly, he was still recovering from a terrible disease and Niall should be kinder to his fragile state. “He kind of is.” Niall nodded in agreement. “But so are you, hence you fit together like a dream.”

“You’re supposed to support me here, Ni, and tell me he’s a shithole who I shouldn’t be wasting my time on.”

“Bah!” Niall said, bending forwards so that the visor of his baseball cap hit Louis’ forehead. It kind of hurt, so Louis robbed the spot with the best indignant look he could pull off glowing on his face.

“You suck, Niall.” Niall just shook his head, and waved his hand in a strange fashion at Louis as he returned to the others. “And not only Liam’s _dick_ , I mean,” Louis added in a loud voice, but Niall didn’t even flinch.

Louis looked down, shooting out his lower lip even further.

“You’re the only friend I have, and I shall never forget that,” he said to the bottle before following Niall.

—

A few hours (at least that was what Louis guessed as he had no idea what time it was) he was standing in a fountain without any shirt on, and howling “You don’t understand! You want each other for more than wild animal sex!” at Niall and Liam.

“You know, I really am glad he’s not the sulky kind of drunk anymore, and instead is his usual cheerful and completely confused one,” Liam said to no one in particular, for Niall was hanging over the edge of the aforementioned fountain, dipping his head down in the water in deep concentration, then sitting up on his knees, and trying to form his now wet hair into a Mohawk.

Zayn wasn’t there to listen to Liam either, as he had gone home a while ago after announcing he couldn’t feel his toes anymore – Louis somehow suspected Zayn’s departure was the reason for Louis’ assumed mood change; also, Zayn was a pussy because he had even been wearing proper boots; Louis only wore TOMS and his toes were just _fine_ – and then Nick and Harry had disappeared off to a walk in the moonlight, which actually consisted of falling into a shrubbery and not getting out of there but just succumb to raspy giggling. So, the natural next step had been for Louis, Niall and Liam to get as far away as possible.

Then Niall had spotted the fountain and bellowed, “It must be the fountain of youth! Let’s become babies!” and Louis had cast himself into the water without hesitating – that is, after handing his then only one-quarter filled bottle to Liam and telling him to guard it with his life.

“You two should be in love!” Louis stated, putting his hands on his hips. He also noted that soaked denim had a very interesting feel to it.

Liam’s forehead wrinkled. “Really, Lou. You’re going to get pneum – puen – pnem – “

“Pneumonia,” Niall said, now lying on the ground on his back and staring up in the sky.

“Exactly,” Liam said. “You just got better, and now you’re standing in a fountain and it’s freezing cold, and you’re half-naked.” His forehead wrinkled even more. “How come I didn’t stop you,” he continued, not really making it a question, so Louis didn’t bother to respond that the reason was that Louis was unstoppable – Unstoppable! Untouchable! Invincible! – and then Liam walked up to Louis and grabbed his hand.

Louis leaned close to Liam’s ear. “You love Niall, Liam. Love him. He’s the love of your life. You really, _really_ , love him.”

“This is horrible,” Liam said. “Niall, stop searching for blueberries. It’s November, and it’s a frigging lawn. There are no blueberries.”

“I hate blueberries,” Louis informed Liam, and then he licked at the man’s neck. “Promise me you’ll never turn into a blueberry, because I really don’t want to hate you.”

Liam put his jacket on Louis, and then he put his woollen hat on Niall’s head. “Now, we’re going nowhere but ho – “

“Masquerade!” Niall yelled.

—

“You know, that‘s so childish of you. I really was sick, and I’m not making up any so-called ‘excuses’.” Louis felt a bit cornered, which was definitely _not_ right, as this was much more his natural habitat than Zayn’s since they stood in the pasta aisle – and Louis would be able to point out the fusilli _blindfolded_ , while Zayn most likely would break down and sob when facing the same problem. Louis wondered if he should ask Zayn to point out the aforementioned fusilli, because he kind of felt like making the black-haired guy cry.

“Well, who said I need to be the fucking mature one? It’s not that hard to pick up your phone and send a text message.” Zayn seemed very far from crying, but he clutched his shopping basket with long white-knuckled fingers.

“It kind of is when you’re having chills all over your body and everything spins around you,” Louis retorted, grabbing a package of pappardelle just to do something. Couldn’t someone _please_ call for him on the speaker system so he could hurry away from Zayn, because well, the guy was in sheer honesty very much more annoying than someone calling “Louis to the checkout, Louis to the checkout, please.” Even though Louis had told Niall just yesterday that it was impossible that something more aggravating than that even existed.

“But you got better after the first few days. But no, let’s not tell Zayn about that. Let’s wait and let Niall invite him to a picnic.” Zayn paused, but before Louis had time to say anything, Zayn waved his shopping basket in front of him as though he was asking Louis to put something in it. “And the picnic sucked!”

“You went before the fun started!”

“Yeah, because getting soaked in five-degree fish-pee after drinking your arse off is _great_ fun.”

Louis threw the pasta package straight at Zayn’s head, and then, after a split second where he just stared at Zayn’s shocked face, he ran off and hid behind a shelf in the canned fruit area.

—

When Louis opened the door to the pub in which Niall worked, the bass sounds of Django Django and their song _Waveforms_ hit him like a tsunami. He briskly made his way over to the closest counter and sat down on a high chair. He couldn’t spot Niall, though; the place was quite full, being it so early on a Wednesday, anyway, so maybe it wasn’t that strange.

Then he heard a few strange shouts and looked over at the other bar – and well, there was Niall. The blond stood up on the counter, his shirt opened, revealing half of his belly, and a snapback on backwards, and while he made some obscene rolling movements with his hips in the rhythm of the music, he also managed to pour up drinks in a mad speed.

Louis would never admit that Niall was the greatest bartender he had met, but he really was.

He slid off the stool, pushed past a bulky man in a Spice Girls-shirt, and when finally having arrived in front of where Niall’s kicks hopped around on the counter (which was very slippery from all the drinks that had been spilt there – Liam always said Niall one day would fall off and get a concussion), he grabbed Niall’s leg.

“No touching of the ani– Oh, hi!” Niall beamed down at Louis. “You’re coming from work?”

“Yeah, I had the closing shift today. I’ve had a terrible day, so I need you to give me loads of free drinks, as well as the permission for me to rant about Zayn, because he’s an absolute fucker.”

Niall sat down on the counter, his legs dangling off the edge, and he handed Louis a glass which Louis hadn’t even noticed him filling up. As mentioned, the guy was a pro.

“He came to my work, Ni. To rub it in my face how he thinks I’m a prick for not letting him know I was sick. Really, he’s such a wanker – I had fever hallucinations!”

“Maybe he’s just the jealous type,” Niall said, continuing by ogling Louis’ shirt. “Are you still in your working clothes, man? I’m so disappointed in you; I’ve told you hundreds of times you look too preppy in them to wear them anywhere else but at work. You shouldn’t even be wearing them _there_ , honestly.”

“But it’s nothing to do with jealousy, really.” Louis groaned. “He knows he’s wrong, probably, but he’s too fucking proud and stubborn to admit it.”

“Just like you,” Niall said, poking Louis’ chest with a bony finger and a smirk engraved on his face.

“Nialler, just be on my side in this.” There was a slight pause, and then Louis added a “ _Please_.”

“I am, though,” Niall protested, but then Louis’ phone vibrated and he forgot to retort how Niall failed very much in that aspect (Niall should have been plotting ways to kill Zayn if he really was on his side; the blond should be wanting Zayn’s head on a pole for hurting his most precious friend) as the text was from an unknown sender.

_Louis, I want you to join me at my night-yoga-class. Be at the bus stop at Mighthale street 11:47 sharp. /Harry_

Louis frowned. What the actual fuck?

“Tell me if I’m still having fever hallucinations,” he said, passing his phone to Niall, who accepted it smoothly, but mumbled something that sounded a lot like “He’ll nag about that flu when we’re seventy-eight years old.”

Louis ignored that and looked at the clock just above Niall’s head. 11:47 was in half an hour away, meaning he’d well enough be able to get to home, change into something that wasn’t so…preppy, to borrow Niall’s words, and be at the bus stop.

“No hallucinations,” Niall said. “He wants your D, man,” he then added and cackled loudly before pushing himself back up on the counter and doing some kind of interpretation of a yoga position. “All right, maybe he just wants to see you as a tree. Leave on this journey you must. So, get the fuck out of here, dearie.”

Louis didn’t really listen, but kept staring at his phone as he steered out through the crowd. There was a strange taste in his mouth.

As he got home, though, he quickly swallowed it down with a large glass of milk, and when Liam, in his flannel pyjama trousers and with a bowl of cereals in front of _Escape to the Country_ , asked where he was going, he answered confidently, “On a yoga-class. It’s the first day of the rest of my life.”

“Huh,” Liam responded, and since the couple on the TV suddenly began clapping their hands in joy, his attention quickly withdrew from Louis.

So Louis dashed down the stairs and out to the bus stop, checked his phone again, and found he was there three minutes too early. The very precise time Harry had given him was a bit odd, but then again, Harry had always had a kind of strange air to him, ever since that bathroom accident.

As he thought of it, there had been other times, too. Because even though (before Zayn had turned into a Zayn) Louis mostly had paid attention to the black-haired customer, Harry had often been joining Zayn in his visits to the shop. And Harry always had very fascinating questions to Louis when he was at the checkout, such as “Do you sell hearing-aid batteries?” or “How many of those thin plastic bags would you estimate are used each day?” or “Is there a limit to how many dish washing sponges I can buy?”

Louis’ responses had, or so he feared now that he thought back on it, been very short, since his gaze had been caught on Zayn’s eyelashes wiping his cheek, or Zayn’s sleeves pushed up on his arms revealing more tattoos, or something else that included _Zayn_.

Suddenly a bus slowed down in front of him, and he hadn’t time thinking of how pitiable he had been back then.

He took a few steps backwards, and hoped the bus would drive off soon so there’d be space for Harry to stop and pick him up, whenever the guy would arrive.

“Louis!” sounded a hoarse voice from within the bus.

How… _odd_.

“Louis, come on, don’t just stand there.”

It was Harry.

“Get on! For the first time in my life I’m about to hold my schedule, and I won’t let _you_ ruin it.” Louis stepped onto the bus as Harry sent him an absolutely vicious glare from behind the steering wheel.

When the door closed, Louis grabbed hold of the pole next to Harry not to stumble down on the muddy floor in a pile, as Harry accelerated away very quickly. “Are you a bus-driver?”

“Yes.” Harry looked over his shoulder. “And don’t give me such an incredulous look, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, just… You don’t seem like the bus-driving type of guy,” Louis admitted, having gained a bit of a better posture, swaying not as much as before.

“Well, I am. And as I said, I’m about to make my schedule, so please, sit down and shut your mouth, because I need to concentrate.”

Louis blinked, and as Harry let the engine roar where he had stopped in front of a red light, he quickly sat down in the closest seat. Then the light turned green, and Harry practically thundered away; Louis had to grab hold of the seat in front of him not to slide off where he sat. He cast a look behind him and found that the bus was entirely empty, except for an old man sleeping in the back.

“But what about the yoga?” Louis asked, feeling a bit insulted if they were not to go to the class. He even wore sweatpants and had brought a bottle of water.

Harry glanced in his rear view mirror, doing a heavy swerve, and Louis widened his eyes as he saw a stop-sign fly past his window far too closely. “We’re on the way there. I have two blocks left of this drive and then I’m done for the day. Just thought it would be smarter to pick you up since I was driving past your place. And since you don’t know where the yoga place is.” Harry suddenly slowed down next to another bus stop, and yelled, “Hey, mister! It’s your stop!”

“How can you know it’s his stop?” Louis asked when the man had rubbed his eyes, raised from his seat, and left through the second door in the back.

Harry blinked at Louis as though he had given him the most stupid question. “Asked him?”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “So what, you ask all your passengers where they’re going?”

“Yeah.” Harry still wore the same bewildered expression as he accelerated again after a short look on his wristwatch.

“And you remember?”

“You just need to listen; it’s not that hard.”

Louis wondered if he should bring up that time he had fallen asleep on a bus and woken up in Sutton – that driver surely hadn’t listened to him buying a ticket to Hillside Gardens.

But as Harry suddenly shut the engine off, Louis supposed it wasn’t that important.

Two hours later, however, he had his leg in a position that made him certain it would crack and leave him one-legged in any minute, so he huffed out a “You’re not listening now, though!”

Harry gave him a sideway glance from where he stood in the front of the room. (Seriously, the guy was even the freaking instructor. And he hadn’t even one single drop of sweat on him whereas Louis was _soaking_.) “What?” he asked, while nodding towards one of the girls in the front row with a supposedly encouraging smile on his lips. Louis, though, found it provoking, infuriating and mocking.

There weren’t many people, but Louis was still glad he had chosen a spot in the back of the tiny, slightly reeking room, because he wasn’t exactly on the same level as the rest of the participants. “You’re not listening to my body screaming in pain,” Louis explained.

Harry wrinkled his forehead, just as Louis dropped his hold of his leg as it was totally impossible for him to go on. “Hmm,” Harry said. “Let’s take a break, guys.” As everyone walked over to the side and started chatting away, Harry trotted over to Louis, handing him a towel from which multiply threads hanged.

“This is exhausting,” Louis groaned, burying his head in the scratchy fabric. He was bound to have bright red cheeks.

“You don’t have to do it,” Harry said. “I just brought you here because I needed to speak to you.”

Louis contemplated saying “Are you implying I’m not fit enough to do this?” but as he was quite uncertain whether or not his heart was about to jump out of his chest with the speed it was bumping, he decided on simply trying to reach his water bottle without collapsing. He sank down on the floor and crawled towards it.

Harry followed him closely, and Louis guessed they must have looked rather strange, him on his knees, and Harry walking next to him like he was walking his dog. But _water_.

“You see,” Harry said as they had reached the bottle. “You and Zayn. Zayn usually calls me a cockblock, so I decided I should try and redeem myself when it comes to you two, and be a…hmm, what’s the opposite to block? Pass?”

Louis tried to ask if Zayn _often_ called Harry a cockblock, like, if there were many people Zayn nearly had hooked up with but then Harry had got in between them, but he was still trying to get as much water into himself as possible without actually drowning, so everything just came out as a grunt.

“Yeah, cockpass. That’s what I’m going to do.” Harry’s smile grew slowly.

“Sounds like you’re gonna hand over Zayn’s cock in an envelope to me,” Louis said when Harry had sat looking proud of himself for far too long – and Louis’ bottle was emptied down to the last drop.

“Could do it if it’d help?”

Louis wiped his face on the towel again. “Seriously, let’s keep Zayn’s parts were they should be – don’t go all axe murderer on the poor dude.”

Harry grinned. “Does this mean you’ll go on a date with him… not tomorrow, the day after? I mean, it’s after midnight, but you know what I mean? Friday, is what I mean.”

Louis widened his eyes. “What?”

“My, um, friend, Nick, has got these free cinema tickets? And first he wasn’t too keen on me giving them to you two, but then I explained for him that it basically was a necessity – because I’m pretty sure both you and Zayn would protest that you couldn’t afford a date just to get out of it.”

“Bet you gave him a blowjob to get ‘em, too,” Louis murmured, but as Harry seemed absolutely giddy from anticipation (or maybe he just was high on yoga vibes or something), Louis actually didn’t object. Except that when Harry whooped and gave him a sudden hug, he choked out in surprise, “But he’s got to apologise. Nowhere in hell am I saying sorry for having the flu.”

“Don’t worry, Louis,” Harry said with a beam. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” Then he returned to stand in front of the room and started trying to recapture people’s attention by _ehm_ -ing and waving a little. It was kind of a bad strategy, Louis thought, with the way the people didn’t notice Harry at all, but he was anyway too busy thinking about what the fuck he just had agreed to. It wasn’t that Harry had been overwhelmingly fast or anything, taking him by surprise – quite the contrary, in fact, but Louis still had agreed without really paying attention.

Stupid.

-

“Shit,” Louis said as he took a step out on the street and saw….well, nothing that he recognised. “Shit,” he repeated when he remembered that Harry had left just a little earlier to drive his bus back to the station.

Actually, Harry had asked him if he needed a ride home, but Louis had – for some, now, extremely strange reason – refused with a “No, man, it’s fine! Thanks for everything!”

He had, namely, been completely busy texting Liam _omg liam I just agreed on going on a date with z wtf I hate myself NO. CORRECTION.. I hate HIM :(_. Liam had responded something along the lines of _rly??_ _don’t worryyyyy itll be finnnne_ _:DDDd_ and then it had continued like that until Liam said he had to go to sleep. And then Louis had looked up from his phone and comprehended everyone else had left.

And now. Well, Louis kicked a bit at the curb and repeated the _shit_ for a third time. One, his phone wasn’t one of those flashy ones with maps in it. Two, Niall was at work and now, at four a.m. he was always so busy there wasn’t a chance in the world he would pick up his phone. Three, calling Harry would be far too embarrassing, so _no_. And four, not even phoning a taxi would work as he had no idea of where he was. And five, sure, Liam would probably yell at him for not ringing him as soon as Louis did get home (if it ever would happen), but Liam never slept enough and it was only two and a half hour till the lad would need to get up.

Louis took a deep breath and looked around himself. Maybe he could find a street sign…

Then he dashed back in and closed the door again, as he saw (unfortunately not any signs at all, for the record) a group of people walking past on the other side of the road, hollering something at him. They looked a bit scary, too, and also, the house facing where he stood was completely dark. What kind of area was it Harry was having his yoga-classes in?

Louis sat down on the steps he just had skipped down on. The entire stairwell seemed deserted, and in a corner there was a large pile of rubbish bags.

He hugged his water bottle and eyed the pile warily as if it would suddenly move and attack him. If he could just wait here for two hours, Niall would get off his shift, and he’d be able to call him and Niall would know how to fix everything.

God, Louis was tired.

And cold.

He put his arms around his knees, and hoped that no one would come in and rape him if he fell asleep. As he had no money on him (which was another awfully stupid thing, but he hadn’t counted on needing any tonight), they’d probably take out their disappointment on him by raping him, he could just tell.

All right, Louis was not only cold and tired; he was also a teensy bit afraid?

He shuffled up a bit so he was sitting against a wall.

Maybe he could spend time playing _Snake_ at his phone, he thought, hauling it up. But, no, only one bar of battery left – and the phone was his only mean of survival. Bad idea.

This entire night was a bad idea. Harry had only had bad ideas. Yoga was a bad idea in the first place.

In fact, Louis’ entire life was a really bad idea.

—

“For fuck’s sake!” Someone was shaking Louis’ right arm forcefully.

“Please don’t rape me, please!” Louis blurted out, opening his eyes rapidly and staring around himself. He saw someone, when his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Judging from how little light that entered through the tiny window in the front door to the very empty tenement house, it couldn’t have passed much more than half an hour since Louis realised how badly his life was planned out. “Zayn?”

Zayn still held onto his arm. “Rape you? The hell?”

Louis blinked and tried to push away the newspaper, which lay in front of him, with his foot. He had, before he (apparently) fell asleep, written his testament on it, and he didn’t really want anyone to see it now that it seemed he wasn’t dead. “How did _you_ find me?”

“Can you please answer why you’re not picking up your phone, first?” Zayn said, glaring down at Louis. He looked practically livid, so Louis quickly patted his pocket and fished his phone out. “Oh, it was muted.”

“Why the hell does _anyone_ mute their phone while sleeping in a stairwell, Louis?”

Louis looked down, not really up to meeting Zayn’s scowl. He had just been asleep, for God’s sake! Zayn was having such an advantage on him; it wasn’t fair. “I just forgot putting it on after the yoga! Harry asked us specifically to turn off our signals because it disturbed the atmosphere. Now tell me why you of all people are my saviour.”

Zayn threw him another glowering look. “Well, Harry came home and was like, ‘Oh, guess who I had in my yoga class? Louis.’ And…well, then we started speaking of you and Harry said, like, you were looking completely gutted when he left? And then, um, then I asked him how you’d got home because I knew of course Harry’s classes are out here and I had some feeling you hadn’t a car, so.”

There was a strange blush on Zayn’s cheeks, which made it rather difficult for Louis to follow Zayn’s explanation. “…so?”

“Well, so he said that you’d refused the ride he’d offered you, and I was like, ‘wait a second.’ And so I called you and you didn’t pick up. So I called Liam and he said you weren’t home –“

“You woke Liam up?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Seriously.” Louis stood up. “The guy never sleeps enough; you can’t just ring people in the middle of the fucking night!”

“Hang on,” Zayn said. “So you’re saying I should just have ignored it all?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You shouldn’t have woken Li up is what I’m saying!”

For a split moment Zayn just glared at him, then he turned around and slammed the door open, before walking out. Louis stood still for a moment, his head still a bit fuzzy, as though everything he did was in slow motion, but the rest of the world moved at a normal pace. Then he ran after Zayn.

“Hey, Zayn!”

Zayn was already several yards away and walked with his hands shoved down in his pockets, not even flinching at Louis’ yell.

“Come on, dude!” Louis said, finally having caught up with him. He puffed a bit. He hadn’t been this physical in ages – and now it had all happened in one single night.

“You come on!” Zayn suddenly stopped and turned around violently. “Jesus, Louis!”

Louis swallowed, hoping his narrowed eyes would match the hostility in Zayn’s eyes. “What?”

“Fuck you,” Zayn said lowly.

“Fuck you, too!”

“Fuck you _harder_!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I can’t do this right now.” Louis groaned and put a hand across his face. Kind of like slapping himself. He earned a strange look from Zayn, so it probably looked like that, too. Even greater.

“Not doing this right now? Not doing what exactly right now?” Zayn’s eyes were narrowed, which made things even worse.

Louis breathed in, and shot Zayn a side-glance. They walked in a steady pace next to each other, as though they had somehow decided it. “I’m so tired I could probably fall asleep standing on one foot reciting Archimedes. And I have to get up in, like, two hours.” Louis knew he was babbling, but hell, he _was_ exhausted. “And then you come and yell at me and you’re being really hot and you know what? I’m so turned on by it. And when I’m this knackered I can’t help being that way.”

“Oh,” said Zayn.

“That’s right, _oh_ ,” Louis offered quietly, and then he rubbed his eyes. They had arrived at Zayn’s car – apparently, as Zayn opened one of the side doors and ushered Louis in. He obeyed silently, and then, when Zayn had closed the door and they drove off (Louis had a vague feeling Zayn had fastened his safety belt, but he wasn’t sure – though what other reasons were there for him to suddenly have Zayn’s quiff right under his nose?), Louis dozed off in a matter of seconds.

And as he woke up next morning, to his phone shouting obscenities in Niall’s voice (it was both the greatest wakeup alarm ever as well as the worst) he was in his bed. For a second he wondered how he had got there, like, _really?_ Zayn simply _couldn’t_ have carried him there, could he? Because. Uh. So, he quickly stopped wondering about that and went onto pouring him a glass of milk in the kitchen.

Then he remembered, suddenly, what he had told Zayn before them arriving at the light green Ford, and he yelped.

“Louis?” Liam dashed into the kitchen from the bathroom, his trousers undone and deodorant in one hand. “Why do you have milk all over you?”

Louis turned slowly. “Liam. You have to kill me.”

—

_Picking you up at 6.30? so we can grab sumthin 2 eat before the movie? :) x_

Louis frowned down at his phone. Liam had, unfortunately, not killed him yesterday, and so Louis had spent the hours at work decidedly not thinking about anything remotely related to Zayn. (He had failed, by a lot, especially when he was unpacking yoghurt cartons and also later when he tried to powernap during his fifteen minute break.) But as he got home, Niall had demanded a game of FIFA, as it was his night off, and soon it had been revealed that Niall had been in a terrible mood, because apparently Liam had been on the phone with Andy for ages and “like, I swear, I counted to six inside jokes in the range of two minutes!” and then Liam had left to also hang out with the guy. And all this _even_ though it was Niall’s only free night in six days. So Louis had first tried to make Niall understand that he needed to get his shit together about Liam, because “seriously, dude. You are not just fuck-buddies,” but Niall had refused to listen and instead changed subject to Zayn, and Louis had remembered it all again and then it had been impossible for him to stop thinking about it, so afterwards he hadn’t slept a minute but instead began a mad cleaning of the kitchen throughout the night (Niall had shook his head and stated that Louis would always be more pathetic than him, and when Louis thought of it, as he scrubbed at the fridge door violently, it almost had sounded like Niall actually admitted to at least _something_ relating to him and Liam), and now it was 7.30 and he had just started to wonder if it was possible to turn the day around this quickly (but then again, it wasn’t that quickly if he was being fair, because the yoga night had just been the top of the iceberg that consisted of numerous sleepless nights), when his phone lying on the now sparkling stainless steel counter had buzzed.

And well.

He grabbed the phone, and squinted down at it even harder. Was there something in it he missed? Like, something the fumes of the cleanser made his brain fussed up so it was impossible for him to grasp it? He went into the bathroom, where Liam was in the shower, singing something about not sleeping without a cup of tea, leading to sleep-talking. Louis vaguely recognised it as being a song from that band Niall liked, but he’d need to save that information and hold it against Liam _later_ , because now there were far more important matters at hand.

“Liam.”

“Louis?” Liam stuck out his head from behind the duck-patterned drapery. “Are you fainting, mate?”

“No. Why do you and Niall both keep thinking I’ve turned into some Victorian swooning lady since I had the flu?”

Liam shrugged. “What is it then?”

“Zayn just sent me a text which, if I’m not completely out in the blue, indicates that the date Harry set up still is on.”

Liam’s face changed in a very rapid fashion. “Really?”

“Yes. Which makes no sense, because I’m a hundred and ten percent sure that it was made awfully clear that we were not going to go out anymore. Like, because of that thing I told you about.”

“How you slipped and told him –“

“That exactly,” Louis interrupted loudly.

Liam suddenly looked very evil, which was super-odd, because one, it was Liam, and he looked evil so rarely Niall and Louis had started to note down every time it occurred (they had only so far captured three times – however, Niall had a theory Liam looked evil a lot of times when he and Louis either were pissed or asleep), and two, Liam was standing behind a drapery which was covered by yellow ducks, and he had shampoo trickling down his forehead which he kept pushing away. “Maybe he actually enjoyed that confession, then.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t a confession, though! I just happened to say that; I don’t know why I did it.”

Liam still sported a malicious glint in his eyes. “A Fr- Froi- Fe-“

“Freudian slip,” said Niall, who suddenly poked his head in through the bathroom door. “Pass me the watering can, Lou. Our flowers are slowly dying, and apparently no one’s noticing their suffering, except for me,” he muttered as Louis grabbed the can from the shelf above the mirror and handed it to him. “Their splendid saviour.”

Both Louis and Liam watched the blond bob away, balancing the watering can carefully. Liam gave Louis a look that was wiped clean off every trace of malign. “Is he upset about something?”

“If upset is the definition of ‘I wish Liam was my real boyfriend so I could have him all for myself,” then yes he is,” Louis explained, and then he waved his phone at Liam’s face again. “But, come on. Help me with this!”

“Niall’s not wishing for that, though,” Liam said, his fingers gripping around the hem of the drapery. “Really. We’re both happy with what we have and we don’t want to ruin it.”

Louis stared at the phone screen. “Do you think Zayn’s making fun of me? Like, he just wants to rub it in somehow that I said that to him?”

“We decided on that, like, the first day. That we were too good friends; that we wouldn’t need a traditional relationship.”

“Or do you think he’s _serious_?” Louis wondered, tilting his head to the right.

“Wait, are you implying Niall’s changed his mind about that?”

 “Is it possible to ask him, without sounding like I’m neither super-daft or an arsehole?” Louis asked, now looking up from his phone. Liam was rubbing at his eyes, but also managed to give Louis the most frightened look ever. And Louis thought it didn’t depend on the fact he had got shampoo in his eyes.

“Lou?” Liam said in a broken voice.

“Priorities,” Louis mumbled, and then he sat down on the closed toilet seat. “Liam. Niall would be over the moon if you just made the first move and told him you’d like a real-deal relationship. I’m not kidding with you.”

“But why doesn’t _he_ make the first move?” Liam wiped even more ferociously at his eyes now. “If he now wants that.”

“Because he’s a tiny cowardish little leprechaun. Really, it’s that simple. And I suggest you rinse your eyes with water, dude, or it’s gonna look like you’ve been smoking pot for five days in a row.”

“Didn’t see where the simplicity was in that,” Liam muttered. “Hey, I have a plan. You go on that date with Zayn and I take Niall out and then we don’t get back here until we’re done with it.”

“Didn’t you steal that from Harry Potter?” Louis said, but then Liam held out his fist against him, so he opened his palm and grabbed it. “Also, how do we know we’re ‘done with it,’ like, what do you count as done?”

“Stop pointing out all the flaws in the plan. Just do it,” Liam said, and then he backed into the shower again. “We should ask Nike to sponsor us. Now let me shower in peace, weirdo.”

Louis walked out of the bathroom. Then he walked back in. “But how do I text Zayn back? I hate texting, honestly.”

“Well ring him, then?”

Louis stared at the duck-drapery.

—

In the end, he, of course, didn’t ring Zayn. He had sent a text saying _sounds great ! I’ll be ready ! x_ and Zayn had picked him up a little late, but he _had_ picked him up. (And Louis would tell no one that he had fretted around in the flat like crazy those few minutes until 6:45, worried he had been stood up.)

The ride downtown had been slightly quiet, until Zayn had said “Sorry about being a spoiled brat when you were sick. I mean, I should have brought you soup, instead of being all whiny.” Louis had quickly protested that “No, don’t worry! I mean, I could have sent a text, or told Nialler or Li to do it. Really, it’s fine.” And after that, Zayn had given him a smile that was all eyelashes and Louis had had to take a deep breath and look out through the window until Zayn had started the radio and that boy band of Niall’s had come on and they had been able to chat about that.

Sorry Niall, Louis thought, but it had been for a good cause. Getting rid of tension would always be more important than being considerate to Niall’s music taste. It was a law of physics, nearly.

“How’s things with them two, by the way?” Zayn asked as they had put their order with the waiter.

“Well, they’re actually on a date right now. If it’s going fine, I’m taking credit for it, because it was kind of thanks to me. But if it’s messing things up even worse, it wasn’t my fault. Just so you know.”

Zayn did that eyelash smile again, and Louis had to quickly take a sip of his iced water. He had decided to have no alcohol tonight, because firstly, Zayn was driving and thus not drinking – and being drunk with a sober Zayn was quite possible the worst scenario imaginable – and secondly, he wanted to know exactly what was happening, and thirdly, he had work tomorrow morning. Maybe the reasons should have been in reverse order, but never mind that.

“Harry and Nick then?”

“Well, when I woke up this morning, there was a great deal of clothes in the sofa not belonging to Harry. Which I suppose is good. But when I got back home in the afternoon, the clothes were gone and Harry was playing The Killers on the loudest volume in his room and wouldn’t open his door, so I’m not sure really.”

“Theoretically speaking they could still be in there and having steamy sex to ‘Uncle Johnny’?”

“True. Let’s hope for that. Even though I know they have a shagging-playlist and it’s filled with more or less Katy Perry and Swedish House Mafia.”

Louis pouted. “How do you know their shagging-playlist – and maybe more importantly, why on earth do they _have_ one?”

“Nick’s this radio DJ, yeah? So apparently they put it together once, and I suppose they keep adding to it, because sometimes when the radio is on or something, Harry will go ‘wait a sec’ and digs up a notebook and writes something down. And then Nick has told me how he has this code word so when he’s on the show and says ‘Next up is…’ it’s always one of _their_ songs. If he says something else it’s obviously not.”

“Really?”

Zayn nodded. “I haven’t decided if it’s cute or pretentious yet.”

“I suppose it’d be cuter if they didn’t fuck around and hurt each other?” Louis said softly.

“True,” Zayn responded.

They were quiet for a while, and Louis fiddled with the fork in front of him. It was a kind of fancy restaurant, he noted, where Zayn had brought him to. Hmm. “It’s odd how we always end up talking about our friends. We’re like those parents who can’t stop talking of their children, living through them, right?”

Zayn laughed. “And so overprotective, God. Guess who even told Harry before leaving tonight that he needs to dress warmly because of the weather? I’m such an embarrassment, really. Harry didn’t seem to notice though.”

Louis grinned, and just then the waiter came in with their plates. When he left, Louis looked up from his tagliatelle and saw Zayn eyeing the waiter’s retreating backside. He shuffled around in his seat as noisily as he could. “But honestly, what are you doing? Feels like I know more about Harry and Nick than what I do about you.” He locked eyes with Zayn, and then, as if daring himself, he added, “Which is rather odd, because I’m much more interested in you.”

Zayn’s mouth quirked upwards. “Oh. Well, I’m running a tiny coffee-shop.”

Louis gaped. “Really? And you’ve never showed it to me? Also, you have it as in you _have it_? As in it’s _yours_?”

“I’ve never showed it to you because we’ve only met up in the middle of the night.” He held up a hand before Louis had time pointing out what a lousy excuse that was. “ _And_ I know that was a lousy excuse, but we’ve had to have it closed for a couple of weeks since there was a fire and the insurance company bitched about it for ages. And it’s not completely mine; I’m co-owning it with my mate.”

“There was a fire?” Louis tried to get rid of the image of Zayn running out from a burning building, sweaty and sooty, with Louis’ lifeless body in his arms. Seriously. Where did that even come from?

“Yeah, nothing major, though. I…um, I tried to make grilled cheese sandwiches and simultaneously deal with a customer that thought his cappuccino was a macchiato. Which, for the record, it wasn’t. So when I got back into the kitchen the grill was on fire.”

“Wow.”

“It sounds like it was my fault, doesn’t it? Because it wasn’t.” Zayn stared down at his spaghetti and shoved in a bite.

“No, of course it wasn’t your fault. Neither it was the customer’s fault – or wait, that’s it. It was his fault, yeah. If you don’t get out any insurance money, I suggest we blackmail that guy. It could be fun, couldn’t it?”

“I think we have a little different opinion about what we consider as fun,” Zayn said, and then he stopped with his fork right between his lips, and gave Louis a long look.

Louis almost got a piece of tagliatelle caught in his throat. “I’m not so sure about that; I never said criminal activities is the _only_ thing I think of as fun,” he managed to get out after a while.

Zayn still looked at him in that way, with the fork glistening against his lips. Really, it wasn’t fair. He extended his foot under the table until it met with Zayn’s leg. Zayn’s eyes glittered.

—

“Oh, shit,” Louis panted, dragging his fingers across Zayn’s chest. Those tattoos were, by the way, even better when they _all_ were in view.  At once. Splayed out in front of him. Like a personal exhibition. And he had been thorough in his exploring. “The film.”

Zayn’s lips didn’t leave his neck even for a second, and his energy was fabulously surprising considering… _things_. “Never mind,” he mumbled. “This was much better.”

“Not going to argue with you,” Louis said in between planting kisses across Zayn’s shoulders and, quite frankly, anywhere else within his lips’ reach, as he tried to keep up with Zayn’s speed. It was kind of difficult, though, and his voice probably revealed that as he continued, “Much, much better. Just, won’t Harry or Nick be disappointed?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Zayn’s fingers now pulled through Louis’ hair, which was, to be honest, completely ruined; sweaty and the careful styling he had done before the date in Niall’s room (with Niall’s wax, also) had been gone for a while now. “And I think this is exactly where Haz hoped it would end anyway. So we’re just ahead of the schedule.”

Louis nuzzled his nose into the crook of Zayn’s neck. “Smells good,” he murmured.

Zayn winded his arms around Louis, finally seeming to be able to relax. “You smell good, too.”

Louis grinned. “Or maybe we’re biased. Bet we have to shower sooner or later.”

“No,” Zayn pushed his nose against Louis’ cheek. “Bad idea. We stay here forever.”

“All right, I’m game.” Louis licked at Zayn’s neck. “Forever it is. They’ll have to drag our bodies out of here in seventy years.”

“Seventy years ain’t forever.”

“So we’re going to be immortal, too? Now I’m even more game.”

“Ah, so you only want me for my immortality. That’s good to know.” Zayn bent his neck a bit and hovered his lips just above Louis’.

Louis craned his neck so he could kiss Zayn. “Not only,” he said into Zayn’s mouth. “Want this, too.”

—

When Louis got home the following morning, he found Niall and Liam asleep, fully dressed but tangled in each other, on the kitchen floor. Good thing that maniac cleaning had occurred, Louis thought, content with himself.

He was also content, super-much so, with his life in general. When he had woken up in Zayn’s bed (which they had ended up in at last, after giggling over how they now had had that shag in the backseat they had joked about what felt like ages ago. Louis had then pointed out that there was a serious lack of rose petals in Zayn’s bedroom, and he had loudly continued that it wasn’t fair that only _Zayn’s_ dreams would be fulfilled, so Zayn had pushed him down on the bed with a grin on his face and, to be crude, Louis’ dick had got loads of dreams fulfilled during what followed) the bed had been empty, but there had been a note on the table that had said _Morning! I had to take the early shift at the coffee shop, bc Ant got a dentist appointment. If you want you can come down and get breakfast? It’s just down the street to the right when you get out, you can’t miss it. Love, Zayn_. And there had been a lot of really adorably drawn hearts on the paper, so Louis had felt his stomach actually flip several times. For real, like.

He had put on the clothes from yesterday, except for borrowing a t-shirt from Zayn as he actually couldn’t find his own, and then he had hurried out on the street after walking into the bathroom for a pee and accidentally scaring the shit out of Harry as the lad was in the shower. Louis hadn’t waited for Harry to recover, as he was very eager to get to Zayn and his promise of breakfast.

The coffee-shop had been very nice, a little shady, but the coffee had been heavenly and Zayn had looked heavenly behind the counter, and his blushed “Morning! Almost afraid you wouldn’t come,” had been even more heavenly.

In the end, he had had to leave, but not until after Zayn had promised he’d come in and buy yoghurt in the evening during his shift. Louis had never looked forward to a closing shift more than what he did today.

So, obviously Louis wanted to share all this with the bundle of boys halfway under the kitchen table. “Good morning!” he said loudly, sitting down on the floor cross-legged.

The only response was a little shuffle from Liam.

“Guys, it’s ten thirty!”

The only response this time was Niall flipping up his middle finger.

“What’s with you? Are you hangover? Have you been drugged? Was there an evil lord who put a sleeping spell on you?”

“Just tired,” Liam mumbled, beginning to get himself out from Niall’s death grip.

“Why? And how was your date?” Louis asked. He kind of regretted it immediately as he had said it, though, because he could only think of one thing that would lead to them still asleep at half past ten, and on top of that, in the _kitchen_. He wasn’t up to hearing a detailed description of them shagging on all the surfaces in the kitchen.

Now Liam seemed to wake up completely, however. In a matter of seconds, he had entangled himself from Niall and stood up instead, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt. Niall’s head fell down on the floor with a thud, but Liam didn’t even seem to notice how Niall winced. Then Liam looked around himself for a short while, and dashed out from the kitchen and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh,” Louis said.

Niall glared at him while rubbing his head. “Thanks a lot, mate. There for a second I was certain he’d forget the argument and actually forgive me, but no, you come and remind him of it all.”

“That’s not very fair. How should I know that there was a taboo on mentioning – what exactly? I don’t follow.”

“No, me neither.” Niall stood up, too, so Louis hurried to rise as well. “It was all fun and games yesterday. We watched a movie, and then we had some drinks at a bar. And then we get home, and I was certain it all meant something. Like for real, you know? But then, no, then suddenly Andy calls him and they’re on the phone for, and I’m not exaggerating, _ten hours_. …okay, that was a bit exaggerated, but still.”

Louis chewed at his bottom lip, watching Niall trying to flatten down a strand of his hair by looking at himself in the reflection of the window. “How did you end up here, then?” he asked, pointing at the table.

“I don’t know, really. I said something about Andy that I guess was rather uncalled for. And he got really mad, and then we shouted at each other, and then we stopped and sat down on the floor, and then I suppose we fell asleep.”

“You two are…” Louis shook his head. “Really, Niall.” He grabbed Niall around his shoulders, receiving a surprised look in response. “Tell me, right now, if you want Liam to be your boyfriend.”

Niall swallowed visibly. “I…well, yes.”

“Great.” Louis nodded, rather violently if he was judging from how it caused Niall’s entire body to bob in the same pace. “Now, go into his room and tell him exactly this: ‘Liam Payne, would you like to be my boyfriend?’ Or wait, you should start by saying you’re sorry, okay?”

Niall’s eyes widened, but then Louis patted his back. “Go get ’em, killer!” and Niall actually nodded, and trampled away.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Louis whispered. And when the door to Liam’s room opened a little later, they both blushed so heavily Louis couldn’t remember the last time he had giggled as much. And Liam had swatted at his head, but then hugged him and whispered _thanks_ , and Niall had just crossed his arms and stared at Liam with squinting eyes. It felt too easy, but what the heck.

—

“So, you’re a really good matchmaker then?” Zayn said as Louis had given him an instant replay of the morning’s events where they stood next to the soft drinks’ aisle. “Should hire you for the Haz and Nick problem.”

“I am pretty good, I suppose. But _you_ wouldn’t need to hire me. Or, well, I could at least give you a discount.”

“Or I could pay you in something else?” Zayn’s eyes dipped, and Louis cast a worried glance to his right, where a lady stood and read the label on a Fanta bottle.

Louis took a tiny step closer to Zayn, regretting it immediately as Zayn did the same, and they now were so close they could have kissed by just bending their heads an inch forward each. “I don’t think snogging is one of my work duties.”

“Should be,” Zayn whispered. “What a crappy job, Lou.”

“I like it when you call me Lou,” Louis said, and then he actually bent forward and kissed Zayn. Work be screwed. It was worth it.

And when Zayn’s back was pressed up against a shelf so that a bunch of the Coca Cola cans crashed down on the floor around them, it was still worth it. And it definitely was worth it when Zayn’s lips completely _mauled_ him and Zayn’s breath became hitched and Louis completely forget that he couldn’t just put his hands on the sides of Zayn, because there was no wall, just row after row with more cans, so he sort of stumbled forward and Zayn wound his leg around his back to steady him, and it was even worth it when he, later, sat in his boss’ office and got yelled at.

Because Zayn.

(No wonder, Louis thought as he got home, that his boss had told him to “Take this seriously for God’s sake!” because if he had been wearing the smile that now met him in the bathroom mirror, he must have looked as though he wasn’t listening to a word the boss had said and just reminisced the moment over and over again. Oh, which he had. Because Zayn.)

 


End file.
